The second part of this introductory essay consists of conversations between the authors. Bourgeois and Rodolitz have team-taught a web-based course on this subject for more than five years utilizing a dialogue medium that lends itself to immediacy and informality. Essays in the usual sense speak TO the reader; dialogue, however, allows the reader to participate, if only in an imaginary sense. Additionally, in the medium of dialogue, the evolution of thought is more apparent than in an edited essay. Often, the journey to a conclusion is as important as the conclusion itself. The reader is encouraged to join in this ongoing exploration.

AB: Why don't we begin by considering a group of related objects, not necessarily related by culture but by function?

SR: Okay, let's begin with this Dan mask (fig. 17), this Pende mask (fig. 83), this Yaka mask (fig. 78), and this Kuba mask (fig. 91); we can examine other pieces as we need to.

AB: The masks just sit here as we speak, motionless, out of context, worn and used, raffia fibers in tatters, feathers missing or costumes lost for the most part, even their colors faded or perhaps tampered with by art dealers. The masks then are an aftereffect, like residue of a celebration.

SR: That's true. The bulk of art objects from Africa arrives here and remains here as fragments, either figuratively or literally. They were once part of a larger ensemble of costume, music, dance, and song, all within the framework of an underlying narrative.

AB: But what do we really know about the narratives? Though others have been to the field to research and record them, the bigger picture seems to be missing.

SR: I agree. Where we do know the narratives, they seem disjointed and fragmentary. I would say that in most cases it seems that we don't know the greater contextual narratives, only pieces, nonsequiturs.

AB: Bear in mind that because the story might be well known to all participants it might never directly enter the performance but be part of the background to the event itself. This could make it exceedingly difficult for researchers to obtain this larger perspective.

SR: It seems then that we are talking about the mythical substrata that underlie the ritual.

AB: Yes, something known but never articulated directly.

SR: So, how would a researcher be able to clarify this? Or can he? To try to piece together the broader mythic context is a tremendous task. I wonder if an indigenous member of a group could do it.

AB: To collect oral literature broadly would be one way. Also, an analysis of ritual can open associations. For example, "medicines" that are added to a mask may be significant. So yes, an elder, a chief, or a ritual specialist might present a wider view, but not just any member of the group would have this kind of encyclopedic knowledge.

SR: But in a way, our ability to step back from the group as outsiders could be a definite advantage.

AB: Outsider status definitely could be beneficial in the sense that the stranger is aside from distinct social roles, without family or lineage connections, and cannot take even the simplest things for granted.

SR: Maybe the outsider, because he has to start from zero, has to learn the fundamentals, which are the substratum that may not even be considered or articulated by members of the group. Maybe the obvious is too easy to overlook within your own cultural context.

AB: In fact, an example of this happened when I was showing photographs of Yaka masks to Yaka informants. They did not recognize them (figs. 77 & 78), and in fact any style other than their local one was termed Chokwe (figs. 96 & 97). Being an outsider myself in this context, I was able to see the stylistic connections that were not relevant to the Yaka.

SR: I remember asking a Kuba informant why the Muyum, who is "keeper" of the royal cemetery, owned and used a Bwoom mask (fig. 91) and a Mwash a Mbouy mask, but not an Ngaady a Mwash mask, which completes the so-called Bushoong triad. He was startled and said something to the effect that, "I would have never thought of that; it's just the way it is, the way we do it. . . ." From this, one may assume that to the Kuba there is no relevance to this line of questioning.

AB: The response "because that's the way we do it" is okay. We have to learn to accept that. Customary usage is important, of course, yet there can be associations within the context not entirely noted by the participants themselves. It has something to do with the "interrelatedness" of values within the society. I found it interesting that among the Yaka the performance of the mask at coming-out-of-initiation contexts was nearly overwhelmed by the celebrating and dancing participants: the mask was a focus, but not the focus, to them as it would be to us.

SR: Right, this brings up the question, What is relevant? Sometimes our wondering about things reflects our attitudes, and this has played too great a role in African studies, as in asking informants to advise about classification of styles that may not be relevant to them; in fact, such classifications may not even exist.

AB: I agree that the researcher must allow informants to determine what is relevant and to frame the setting in their own categories.

SR: There is a fine line here that is difficult to see sometimes; in some cases the line varies with the school of thought that you have been trained in. Clinging too strongly to theory can warp the content of interpretation. Is it possible though to so heavily load the context that you create it? I'm referring to art historians studying systems and rigidly assigning objects to one ethnic group or another. Even with the best of intentions it is possible to create the very thing you set out to prove. In this case, the "remnants" become "orphans," as a false context is created for them.

AB: You have to keep in mind that projecting our personal values and verbal formulae into the context is an ongoing problem as I see it. Let's take for a moment familiarity with the native language. Understanding the indigenous language and its nuances opens a whole new set of parameters. Moreover, archaic names might refer to older practices or unexpected derivations. Language can be a remnant of the past as well.

SR: I believe that language, or at the very least an understanding of the most basic differences between the languages of the researcher and the people being studied, is of great importance. I think that Benjamin Lee Whorf was trying to say this decades ago, but his message has been either misinterpreted or misused. Notions of time were an obvious case that Whorf discussed, but each language will present its own set of specific priorities. Then there is also the whole issue of "borrowing" in language; the Bushoong use some Luba-related words associated with Nkaan initiation masks because of their relationship with the Northern Kete. Yet few Bushoong are aware of the full range of meaning in Chikete.

AB: The Nkaan and the Mukanda/Nkhanda Complex–coming-of-age rituals that are widespread throughout central Africa–is a good example. What is the essence of this tradition, is it only about circumcision? The Kuba Nkaan is not a coming-to-manhood in terms of bodily mutilation, yet the Lunda-derived practice is essentially that–for example, the circumcision aspect.

SR: I have always believed it was pre-Lunda in origin. That would account for its wide diffusion.

AB: Perhaps it is a pre-Lunda practice that was widespread, an autochthon, but the influence of Lunda leadership assigns particular named roles and rituals that have become emulated widely because of the prestige of Lunda leadership. What in essence is the difference then between Mukanda of the savannah of Central Africa and initiation among the Dan and related peoples of West Africa–styles of masks certainly (figs. 17-21), but what of their usage?

SR: That's a good question. Dan initiatory practices are more hierarchical and have levels reaching into adulthood, some believe. They also seem to be more concerned with the aspect of social control, according to Harley, in the sense that the masks were agents of those in authority.

AB: But there is also hierarchical ranking of the boys undergoing initiation among the Yaka and Chokwe, even fixed names. As for "social control," getting unruly adolescents to cooperate is the mainstay in both.

SR: But in Central Africa the masks don't serve to terrorize the village on behalf of initiated men or to exact fines, or do they? Perhaps the Kakungu mask of the Yaka and Suku has a role like that?

AB: Not the masks worn by initiates, no, but the masks worn by their overseers, yes. Kakungu is certainly an example, but also Chikunza among the Chokwe. This kind of masking only refers to the initiation of boys to adulthood. Chiefly initiation or the initiation of a diviner or ritual specialist can be expected to be quite different.

SR: Then in a sense, maybe we are really speaking of the nature of initiation in general; we have different kinds of initiation for different contexts of life.

AB: Naturally, because rites of passage cannot be lumped together indiscriminately.

SR: There has been an emphasis on initiation as a catchall term. It seems to me that it is simply the way that we say, in the general sense, that you are being transformed from one state into another in the eyes of the community.

AB: Life is a constant series of transformations. Initiation has to reflect this reality or else it has no real purpose. The ultimate transformation is death itself. In fact, many masks seem to associate themselves with death, at least symbolically; one stage in life is closed, another opened. You have the life aspect that is always ascending. A breaking with the past is always there.

SR: Yes, I would agree that even death can be considered an initiation, if you want to look at elaborate funerary rites in that context. I can't help but think of the Dogon in this sense, where the Awa society, which utilizes masks, is primarily concerned with funerary practices (fig. 1).

AB: In death there is a transformation of the dignitary into ancestral status with new obligations. The past is now in a ritual sense.

SR: Also, family is a form of immortality and at the same time the link to a vast chain that we are part of in our personal or group identities. The traditional group has to allow and maintain all of its parts in a healthy manner. Thus, initiation exists to assign the right to one status or another.

AB: But then too no system is perfect, and each is dysfunctional in its own way; one becomes a man as others allow and urge him to be so.

SR: Maybe the initiatory systems are in place to compensate for dysfunctionality. For example, moral rectitude and the constant stressing of appropriate behavior are important aspects of the Bwami society among the Lega (fig. 107). Maybe we can imagine initiation as a means of reinforcing weak parts of the social network.

AB: Initiation becomes the "hothouse" of identity. I like the idea of initiation as a social Band Aid on the smallest social unit. Then masks appear–the primary and most widespread African aesthetic medium. But why masks?

SR: Masks confer the ability to be someone or, more accurately, some thing other than yourself. Lega masks, according to my informants, can perform as "character actors," teaching right and wrong by portraying known characters in a dramatic setting.

AB: Another persona is taken upon oneself in masking, something ancient and ancestral, something "other" that is worn, performed, danced, enacted, or sung, and linked to the "other side," a remnant of those who have gone before.

SR: A grand continuum between all levels of initiation, or at least all parts of the various changes of life, culminating in death, though a very different sense of death than annihilation, Eastern reincarnation, or Western heaven and hell.

AB: What then of the "ritual"?

SR: Ritual is the culturally sanctioned set of "how to do it" for each needed cultural event.

AB: With the stress on repetition: we do it as it has been done before.

SR: Yes, always repetitive and at the same time always evolving, though "officially" always done the same way.

AB: Perhaps there is a safety factor here–no experimentation and based on a remembered past, even if slightly faulty.

SR: That's very interesting–a way to do it differently in a sense but, at the same time to do it the "same" way; the way a group may adopt a foreign mask or dance if it is effective, and soon it is fully integrated with a spin that is unique to the new group.

AB: Perhaps in other world cultures you have slavish repetition; this is not characteristic of Africa.

SR: Like the case of the Bushoong in antiquity taking certain Kete masks, adding elaborate beadwork, and saying now it is a Bushoong mask and can be used by us.

AB: Now this import aspect itself is interesting. Perhaps there is a notion that "strange" medicines are more powerful than the homemade. So there is a practical side here: "What works best we will do."

SR: Or what dazzles us most we will try.

AB: Yet there are limits, or maybe it is revivals, that call back to the traditional.

SR: One can go just so far before it is no longer recognizable, and then it is not acceptable.

AB: Maybe we have a dynamic here between reaching out and incorporating and then returning to the tried and true, a moveable boundary. As one Yaka Nganga told me, every initiated Nganga does it differently, like each woman cooks differently. There is room for creativity in each system.

SR: We seem to have discussed initiation and masking, but what about figurative sculpture?

AB: Of course. Let's discuss some specific examples. First, though, let's keep in mind that, as with masking and from the point of view of function, there are different kinds of figurative sculpture.

SR: Right. For example we have figurative initiation sculpture such as the Senufo material (figs. 22 & 23) and the Yao figure (Fig. 117). There are ancestor images such as the Hemba figure (fig 102) and the Urhobo post figure (fig 48), and we can also talk about charm figures, or anti-witchcraft figures, such as the Bakongo Nkisi (fig 75), Lobi (fig 11), or the Bamana Boli (fig 8).

AB: Since we have just dealt with initiation, why don't we discuss initiatory figures first? Initiatory societies are a framework within which people learn their social, political, and spiritual roles. Figurative carving in this context serves a didactic function; paired figures can be emblems of marriage, as well as primordial founding ancestors.

SR: Also, since initiation often implies a rebirth of initiates in their new role in society, images of mothers are not uncommon, especially in West Africa, among groups that practice some form of Poro or Poro-related initiation.

AB: In addition, she represents the female aspect of creation, the founder of a matrilineage, and the mother of the community itself.

SR: Other female figures though may represent the initiate as an idealized woman, such as the Yao figure or objects associated with the Sande society in Liberia and Sierra Leone (fig. 15). In this case, the girls would be instructed in how they should imitate certain aspects of womanhood portrayed in the carving.

AB: Remember though that one of the significant aspects about initiatory figures is that they are secret. They are hidden away in a sacred enclosure, a bush camp for example, away from mundane eyes. In fact, the initiate may see the figure for only a few moments in the entire ordeal. We are not dealing with images that are meant to communicate a message to the community but to a group of people in a very specific context.

SR: Right. Therefore the didactic elements that are depicted on the figures must be immediately recognizable to the initiates or at least to the preceptors who will explain them. In essence we are dealing with images that are first and foremost iconic.

AB: Yes, and ancestor-related figurative sculpture is not based on specific traits of the person who is being depicted but rather serves as an icon of family or lineage continuity as well as property rites in some cases. So although ancestor images are also iconic, they are different than initiation figures in that they may be displayed in groups, such as was the case of Hemba figures (fig. 102) and those of the pre-Bembe hunter groups (fig. 112); they signal membership in a "great" family.

SR: Ancestral figures unite the present with the past and may be named for specific people or in some cases for culture heroes that lend legitimacy to property rites and in kingship may be tangible icons of the individual's right to rule.

AB: Frequently, Hemba figures were kept in a special shelter where they were clothed and tended to. Similarly, the Kuba Ndop figures were kept in royal quarters, maintained, and displayed on special occasions. Ancestral figures in this context link the past to the present.

SR: I think you make a valid point that the nature of ancestral images is to link two worlds; patronage from the other world may be channeled through the intercession of the ancestor whom the image represents. The image becomes a focal point.

AB: Probably the most complex class of figurative sculpture though is the charm figure. These are credited with powers on many levels; some are protective, some are used for healing, others are used to insure success or generally to ward off evil.

SR: One difficulty in studying images such as these is that it is sometimes impossible to determine the object's use simply by its outward appearance. But when the constituent materials are known, they generally fall into a vast range that derive from plant or animal sources or are unusual objects whose characteristics signify the desired effect. Objects ordinarily associated with one occasion or sphere are applied to another, or their names are used for something associated with it, opposites are brought together and combined, or mediatory elements are added for an effect that is more than the sum of its parts.

AB: But the combinations and associations don't exist in isolation; they concern a ritual vocabulary, special formulae, and drama involving the participants. In the context of the image though this may be an attached bundle, a container, a packet, or even an accumulation made through sacrifice or spitting. I would agree, however, that we are really talking about opposites and their mediatory elements.

SR: Right–the whole notion of triadic, or what are sometimes considered oppositional, systems with mediatory agents. We can clearly see this for example in the eastern Pende mask (fig. 86), where the face is divided vertically, each half depicting one of the two styles that are most commonly encountered in the type; one with closed eyes and sword-like structures above the horns, the other with round, tubular eyes and animal features. The unification of these two masks into one creates an oppositional paradox that is mediated by the mask itself, or more precisely the character that the mask portrays. The study of these kinds of systems is usually attributed to the Structuralist school, though I think that this is an oversimplification as these themes are directly reflected in the artwork and are thus a concern of anyone who is studying the art.

AB: I agree. Moreover, we should look at the ritual use of color: modes of thought are apparent, with white signifying goodness and social order, and black referring to evil, witchcraft, and death. This leaves red as the ambiguous element, essentially unpredictability and ritual power. This concept has many dimensions: in the heavens the brightness of sunlight, the ominous quality of the evening star, and the yellowish glow of the mediating moon. In terms of special awareness, it's reflected in the "white lands" of the ancestors, the dark earth, and its errant earthlings mediated by the rainbow. We can even take time for that matter, with the sun at its zenith at midday, the dark of midnight in opposition, and the mediating dusk or dawn–here again, white, black, and red. What I'm getting at is that this color triad is reflected in the heavens, space, time, even in human beings: the whiteness and life-giving qualities of milk and semen, the black of decayed blood and putrefaction, and the mediating redness of the bright blood of life. This triadic system also appears in the facial painting of the Bakongo mask (fig. 73) and the Chamba mask (fig. 37), possibly signifying a mediating role.

SR: Well, this functions on every level; the therapeutic technology is essentially from the ancestors brought to the present. This can be demonstrated in masking and certainly in figurative sculpture as well–many traditional Central African statues were painted in black, white, and red. Bear in mind though that although the basic oppositional system will hold, there is no one-to-one relationship here. In other words, what may be represented by white among the Pende is represented by red among the Kumu, so while the system is intact, it's not rigid in its interpretations but quite the contrary. The main point as I see it is that the forces of nature themselves are concentrated, and all of this becomes focused and "stored" in a given object, like a battery.

AB: Yes, and the release of this energy can, for example, take the form of the ritual oaths upon the Bakongo Nkisi Nkonde Kozo (fig 75), where a nail or blade is dramatically driven into the receptacle of this power, evoking the mediating influence that it contains. In some cases the ritual specialist might even ignite gunpowder next to a Khosi charm, allowing it to "speak." Sleight-of-hand tricks such as ventriloquism could heighten the effect.

SR: We haven't touched on the concept of nature spirits and spirit mates. Although the former are not often represented in carvings, occasionally they may be depicted. The Mulwalwa mask (fig. 90), for example, depicts an Ngesh, a nature spirit, but I think this is a general sort of representation. On the other hand, the Baule people make images of so-called spirit mates (figs. 27-30).

AB: Yes, but this is a specific case in the diagnosis of sexual dysfunction that appears to be unique, at least in this context. Ibejii on the other hand are twin spirits, though they may fall somewhere in the realm of humanized spirit as opposed to nature spirit. The whole issue of embodied spirits begins to spread into other categories that we have already considered. In fact, throughout Africa there will be specificities related to one people or another as opposed to general categories.

SR: The notion of general categories is overly appealing. I think that there is a great deal more specificity in traditional contexts than many are comfortable with.

AB: We need to discuss African art objects in the diversity of collections outside of Africa. These objects severed from their original contexts take on a new life. This is not always negative; for example, when a number of objects from the same ethnic group are assembled in a collection, they can be "read" off of one another as multiple series of similar objects over time and space. This can be both fascinating to look at, and helpful to study.

SR: In that sense, these "remnants" that we keep referring to may in some cases find a new context. Admittedly not the reverential context that they may have been part of before but nevertheless a place where they are appreciated and recontextualized. One issue that I think has to be addressed and finally put into its proper perspective is the appreciation of African art based on its influence upon Western art of the twentieth century.

AB: Well, certainly it has been influential, but there are still those who treat African art as the ancestors in the "religion' of Cubist painting, not merely as found objects. I think that today African art is appreciated at a level that allows it to stand up by itself without leaning on its past and present influences, though future styles may very well be in search of ancestors to justify new aesthetic sensibilities.

SR: It is reminiscent of justifying contemporary styles by looking to antecedents in other cultural contexts.

AB: Yes, essentially what we have is the use of ethnographic remnants in future creativity. In essence this art belongs to all and is part and parcel of our shared human heritage. Though these objects are remnants of ritual in one context, in another more hopeful scenario, they are appreciated for what they are, and have been, and in that process they help make us who we are.

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